


One More Day

by aronoiiel



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Gen, Original Character(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-12
Updated: 2021-02-12
Packaged: 2021-03-12 11:41:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,081
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29384331
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aronoiiel/pseuds/aronoiiel
Summary: I find it very hard to believe that elves made sworda and just magically knew how to use them. This is a snippet about that and the more pschological fallout of all that happened aftet the kinslaying.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 3





	One More Day

**Author's Note:**

> Warning for implied thoughts of suicide. And mentions of family death etc.

It tore at him. As a leader of his people. One who has asked them to face the unknown horrors of this world. For his loyalty to his kin. He watched the elf quietly escape the ruckus of their camp. 

This elf. He had watched many times. They took up arms they knew nothing of. They tried to defend. To attack. To do what was asked of them. With no knowledge how to accomplish it. 

He had wondered. Debated. And decided. Moving down the muddy hillside he found them again by the river. Often they would remain here. Even sleep here. He did not understand what pain or sorrow drew them away from the safety of his numbers. Their numbers. 

"It is a dark night to be so far from the fires." He had to aid his people. Even if he was the one who had invited such misery upon them.

The elf did not startle. Thought they turned and offered a bow at his voice. "My King Nolofinwë. I assure you I will draw no ill force to your people. I am surprised you decided to approach. I have felt your eyes upon me often. As often as they fall on your other concerns."

Frowning he allowed his feet to carry him closer to the river bank. "I do not come to warn you back to our numbers." Looking up he allowed the light of the stars to sooth his weary heart. Looking again toward the elf he pulled two swords from the shelter of his cloak. "I wish to offer what help I may. And an ear if it is needed."

Turning to face the river the elf let out a soft chuckle. "The road weary King now decides to aid his flock in their fumbling ways of war." The words were not spoken with ire. Though he could not place the tone in them. "It would have been useful before my lack in skill cost my sister's life. And my father's. And that of the many elves who have shielded me during battle."

Fingolfin closed his eyes in sorrow. So many had fallen. So many had been changed. Challenged. Broken. Lost in ways only Mandos may heal. He had failed to see what was before them. He had no intention of letting more of his people slip through the shadowed claws of their foe. "For what comfort it will give, I offer my sorrow for your losses. I never intended for any of those about me to feel as though I do not care for them" his voice was calm while his stomach tightened and turned

Releasing one of the swords from its scabbard he watched the starlight dance upon the steel. His mind painting the blood of dark creatures upon it. Smoke from the fires almost pulled his mind to another time. Closing his eyes and taking a steasyung breath he turned offering the blade hilt first. "I have no desire to see any more of our people fall. If you wish it I shall teach you the blade."

The other elf eyed the weapon a deep sense of despair on their face. "And if I do not wish it?" There was much left unsaid under those words. Walking toward the King the elf raised a hand and took the sword. "If I wish to simply cease to fight? Would you cast me out as we were cast out by the Valar? Left to suffer and despair?"

"I will not force my people to take up arms if they do not wish to." He replied his stomach dropping at the other elf's meaning. "Nor will I shame any who feel as you do." His voice drops to a near whisper. 

They laughed. "No. You force no one into their decisions. But you will mislead them. With your calm demeanor. Your false self assurance of your path. Your endless acceptance of the injured and faithless."

Fingolfin raised his blade, eyes narrowed as they both took defensive stances. "I do not intend to deceive any of those who have chosen this path." 

The elf stared at him scoffing quietly at the ignorance of this King. "You do not understand. Nor do I expect you to. I do not understand these feelings myself." Moving with a clumsy attempt they attacked. Sloppy. Untrained. Easily taken down by the enemy. 

Fingolfin countered easily but remained defensive. Correcting the other elf's stance and hand position they tried again. Still unsure. Still shaken. "What would you ask of me?" His voice was quiet but firm. Many of his host have expressed, or attempted to express, feelings and thoughts that had previously not appeared in their people. He, to, was struggling with thoughts and feelings that felt entirely foreign to him. 

The elf attacked again the question weighing on their mind as heavily as the hilt in their clenched fist. What would they ask of a King? Of an elf who had chosen their fate? One who is no less reckless than the brother who had them exiled? The blades rang in the silence of the night. "I know not." Their words came at just a whisper. Truly. They had no idea what they wanted. 

Fingolfin's gaze held nothing but compassion and understanding. He did not know himself what he expected of this new journey. Of himself. The tip of his sword brushed the earth as he lowered his own defenses. "If you should think of anything that I may offer I shall do all in my power to see it brought forth."

The elf watched the tip of the blade drag against the dirt forming a clean straight line. Moving his head in a slight nod the elf sheathed the practice blade and returned it to the King. "You lead us well within the confines of your own experience my Lord. I fear it is your people that lack the adequate experience to see our desires fulfilled." Bowing low to Fingolfin the elf turned and made their way back to the camp fires. 

Fingolfin stood holding both swords looking out at the turbulent river waters. Once again he found his mind full of doubt and reluctance. For what they had lost in physical form it would seem the toll upon their minds and hearts was tenfold the price. Was it worth it? Would they find peace at the end of all things? The river simply rushed before him offering little solace and no answers.


End file.
